Into the Fire
by bigschmood1
Summary: As far as Natalie Bishop's concerned, Natalie Bishop isn't even her name. After waking up in an unfamiliar hospital with a severe case of amnesia, Natalie has to figure out just how she landed up where she did, and why she keeps getting plagued with unsettling visions focused on fire. The abrupt entrance of two FBI agents only seem to complicate her already unfortunate situation.


My eyes snapped open.

That's never a good start to any story, right? Right. Yet, it had happened in a blank state of mind, nothing crossing it before the confusing action my brain seemed to set up.

While it took just a few seconds for my vision to stabilize and head to start pounding, I figured out just what my newly opened eyes were looking at. A… ceiling. A white, fluorescent ceiling. Another not so good start to whatever experience this was.

The smell hit me next, and a familiar one too. The unmistakable, industrial gloves, saline like smell of a hospital. Or at least something very close to a hospital. A vet? No… otherwise it'd smell at least like, well, animals.

It occured to me that I was not very… awake. Eyes opened, sure, but to no real avail. Everything felt numb and dull. Like I had just woken up from a very, very, very deep sleep. Or, er, a coma I suppose.

Maybe that's why the panic wasn't quite setting in yet.

You see, while my mind and senses started playing twenty questions, my heart started racing, making it the only truly awake part of me. It could sense something was off from the start. Not right. Wrong. It was the one desperately trying to get my mind to ask something as simple as 'Hey, just why am I in a hospital?'

'How long have I been in a hospital?'

'Who am I?'

That last question that had started forcing itself into my mind was the most alarming. Who was I? No, who am I? I'm someone. I have a name. I have to have a name. Everyone has a name. And, a last name. A middle name. But, was this more than my name? Who… did I appear to be? Inside? Me on the… inside. My… personality.

Ah, the alarms started ringing in my head just in time.

With a stiff jolt I shot up into a sitting position, eyes bleary but wide and unfocused. My already valid assumptions were only further valified when I noticed the pristine white all around me, not just on the ceiling, though for the most part they came from unfocused shapes that filled that white space.

And I was in a bed.

And I couldn't figure out why. Right, I'd already established that, didn't I?

Fuck.

Upon further inspection by frantically casting my eyes downwards and at the bed I was in, I noticed various parts of my arms bandaged and an… what was it called? I.V? An I.V stuck in my inner arm, with a few smaller, random bandages surrounding it. They must of had trouble finding a vein or something, but it didn't ease my stomach any more. I followed the skinny tube connected to the I.V to whatever one of those bags were just beside me. Saline? Some other mystery hospital liquid?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

While my thought process was somewhat calm, my heart only continued to pound in my chest, my head following suit. Hissing in pain at the sudden, painfully dull thumping, I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to tame it. Though it did the opposite.

An image flashed in my head, but it was gone before I could just barely even acknowledge it. Fire? I opened my eyes once more in dread and panic.

I know that if someone were here right now, whoever it would be, they might tell my to control my breathing. Deep breaths. In… and out. In and out. Inhale. Exhale. Hold it in for a few, let it out for a few. And, repeat.

It wasn't working.

'Screw it.' I mentally remarked, lifting my head once more and deciding that first things first, I had to figure out just why the Hell I was here, and how long I had been here… and where exactly this hospital was.

And, then maybe I could start to figure out why I couldn't remember my damn name. Who I was.

Just on queue, the door just a few feet from my bed was carefully pushed open, revealing a nurse. I think. Well, she definitely looked like a nurse. She was tall, with long auburn hair twirled into a neat bun, and turquoise scrubs loosely hugging her slender body. Like a professional. Like I could… trust her? Her features were harder to see, but I think she had brown eyes. She was looking at a clipboard as she entered casually, before looking up and locking eyes with mine. She looked surprised.

"Oh! You're awake!"

Was I not supposed to be…?

"How are you feeling, hun?" She was quick to forget whatever was on the clipboard and approach my bedside in haste. My breath hitched in slight anxiety. Each word she spoke had a noticeable Southern drawl.

Ignoring her question, I asked one myself. "Where…" I had to stop, the sound of my own voice surprising me. Like I hadn't heard it before. In fact, I hadn't. It was small but hoarse as hell. Dry. Gross. Tired. I tried to swallow, but it didn't do any good. "Where am I?"

It was a stupid question, because I was obviously at a hospital, but I couldn't help it. In response, she gave me bit of a bewildered look, like I should've known where this was. But, I didn't even have a clue. Not a single one.

That look quickly vanished, and was replaced with some soft concern but understanding. Who knew if I was even reading these emotions correctly. If I couldn't even remember anything about, well, anything, how could I trust myself? She turned her attention to one of the various machines cemented beside me as she answered. "You are in St. Joseph's right now, hun…. Uh, Fort Wayne."

I absorbed the information numbly, eyes starting to shift around as I tried to jog any memories with either name. St. Joseph for sure didn't ring any bells, and Fort Wayne… I looked unsurely up at the nurse who was still checking the machines.

"Fort Wayne… Indiana?" I questioned with self doubt in my tone at my own ability to piece things together.

Thankfully, she smiled at my deduction, "The one and only, hun! Okay, my turn… how are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?"

While as soon as it was confirmed that this was Fort Wayne, Indiana, and I was trying to remember other information, like for example, why I was in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I half-assed an answer. A lie if anything. No, I didn't exactly feel like hot shit right now, but that wasn't the highest on my list of concerns. "Um, I- no, I'm fine. Why am I here? I mean, what happened? I'm having trouble…" I trailed off, words clumsily spilling from my lips like I forgot how to have conversation.

"... remembering?" She finished my question, and I nodded almost meekly. Her cheery composure seemed to falter slightly, and she took a few seconds of silence as if she was trying to remember herself. Or preparing to. Without any more hesitation, which was another alarming thing, she pulled a nearby chair close to my bedside and sat herself down with a straight posture. Like a professional.

"Well, hun, we're not really sure what happened ourselves. You were found unconscious on the side of the road. We don't know who called it in, they were gone by the time an ambulance arrived… but, fortunately, no injuries were too serious. Nothing we couldn't handle, hun! But, um, you do have a hefty concussion.

I stared at her, trying to decipher this information, which unfortunately only raised more questions than , at least I had a hint of why I had this.. Amnesia, if you could even call it that. But, why was I… no, she wouldn't know. They wouldn't know.

Taking my troubled silence as a response, she continued. "In fact, there was no identification found on you. Do you remember anything from before…? Do you remember having a wallet? What might've been in that wallet... If you could tell us your name, we could pass that down to the police working your case.."

My case?

She was almost tiptoeing in conversation around me, as if she were trying not to upset me or give me an even headache than I had.

I didn't even know what she wanted to know. If I couldn't remember my own name, how was I supposed to remember what I had on me? Something was wrong. Really wrong. And I could feel the panic rising throughout me, but I wouldn't show it.

After almost a minute of eyes flickering from my bed to her warm yet concerned eyes, I couldn't think of what to say. Not a single word. Or, at least, nothing that wouldn't make me seem completely off my rocker. Though, that's what it was beginning to feel like. Like I was absolutely going insane.

I had to at least answer honestly, "I don-"

I was immediately cut off when I heard an old voice mixed with a few pairs of heavy footsteps approaching the now open door of this unsettling room. The nurse noticed my sudden hesitation and turned around in her seat to see the source of the interruption. I caught wind of the conversation, between these people, though it seemed it was just ending. Stopping at my room.

"... now, she hasn't woken up since she was found and picked up by the ambulance, but- Oh! Nurse Judy, how's our uh, little mystery patient?" One of the men, older and shorter immediately changed tune upon seeing the nurse as he entered the room. He had to have been the doctor, and I don't think he could see me. Nurse Judy was blocking my view, and his, for the most part.

Judy seemed to cross her arms, taking on a stance that expressed her annoyance upon the 'barging' in on our conversation.

"... Awake, and in need of more rest." Her tone was curt. "Who are these… gentlemen, Doctor?" She questioned almost accusingly.

With a shift in her stance, I finally caught at least a glimpse of who she was referring to.

Just behind the doctor were two men dressed in suits. Different colors, but equal in formality. It didn't exactly settle my stomach, a sharp spike of anxiety hitting me instead.

At her question, the taller of the two stepped forward with a small smile that was just asking for trust. Not that it did. Not with me. He reached into his jacket pocket and automatically flipped open some sort of leather wallet, revealing a badge and identification, the man beside him following suit. "I'm Agent Barnaby and this is my partner, Agent Jiles. We just wanted to ask her a few questions."

Her… me. They wanted to ask me questions. The FBI, I could only assume, wanted to ask me questions. Fuck.

They didn't look like FBI agents, but then again, how was I supposed to know what they looked like when I'd never met one, or ever intended on meeting one, in the first place?

What stood out immediately about one was his height and hair length, which was almost the opposite of his short haired and, well, shorter partner. He had a soft, young look on his face too, that held a hint of a genuine and pitiful smile. Nothing that I would expect from an FBI agent, at least not the ones on T.V.

The other, who I had already deducted was shorter in height and hair length, held a more… well, rugged look about him. His posture was casual yet alert. Lines on his face were slightly more prominent indicating an age advantage over his partner. Rather than a hint of a smile, there was a hint of a lazy smirk. Like his partner.. He just didn't seem like an FBI agent. But I knew better than to assume otherwise. How could I trust my thought process if I couldn't even seem to remember the simplest things?

I noticed the Nurse, Judy, visibly tense upon first seeing the badges, before quickly apologizing as if she were afraid the FBI was here for her. I became even more anxious when I noticed that the doctor was beckoning for her to exit the room, along with him.

Fuck.

She nodded and looked back at me briefly before following suit. As uncomfortable as I was before with just her, I would feel so much better if she could stay. I didn't trust this. Call it a gut feeling. God knows there was a sinking feeling filling the pit of my stomach. Some sort of dread.

"You boys let me know if you need anything else." The doctor added, finally ushering the nurse, and himself, out of the room. Leaving her alone with these strangers. Perfect.

The shorter of the two slightly pushed the door to a full shut, a confirming click following. I tensed up, pushing myself up into a more rigid sitting position. Right about then I would've loved to stammer out, 'Who are you?' But that was already answered.

"Uh, it's nice to meet you, Miss…" The tall one, Agent Barnaby, approached my bedside, taking the nurse's previous place much to my discomfort. The way he trailed off, I knew he was expecting me to give him my name. Which exactly one of the things I was dreading. The slightly shorter Agent just stood to the side, seemingly observing or… something.

Because, for the life of me, I couldn't remember my name.

And, that was bad. Why? Because these were FBI agents. FBI agents that were talking to me for one reason or another, and most likely for something I didn't remember. And, it's not like a could pinpoint when and where… but it had to be something. I couldn't remember anything from before waking up in this hospital. That was the problem.

I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the fear that they would take me for a liar if I said I didn't remember my name, or maybe I would seem insane enough to make a suspect out of for not remembering my name. So I made up one on the spot, barely wasting a second.

"Nat.. Natalie." It came out in a murmur, "Bishop. Natalie Bishop." It would've sounded like I was testing out the name as I practically blurted it out. Even then, it came to me naturally… which wasn't right. Maybe I remembered someone from before, but couldn't name anything else about.

It was laughable and embarrassing. That couldn't have been my real name, it just didn't sound right. But Barnaby seemed to have accepted it, not without a few quirks of his eyebrows as I fumbled through the first answer to their first question.

Natalie Bishop it is.

I didn't bother to glance and see if the other agent was even possibly accepting it. I didn't want to know.

Face flushing and starting to feel overwhelmed, I didn't stop at giving them a fake name, I just kept talking as if to clear up any future questions, because I knew I wouldn't be able to make up a lie for everything. "Listen man," I held up my hands almost defensively, "I don't remember anything. Barely anything. I didn't even know I was in… Fort Wayne, Indiana! The nurse told me I was found unconscious or something. I'm…" I paused, taking a shaky breath, "I'm sorry. I can't help with.. Whatever you want from me." I managed to keep my voice from cracking emotionally at the end of my small rant, averting my gaze completely from Barnaby's own.

He was somewhat flustered, though, stammering himself to reassure me of something, "Hey, hey, don't worry. We're just.. We're looking for anything you might remember. Not even memories. Anything like strange smells, or out of place temp-"

"What happened to your hands?"

The question immediately caught me off guard, and Barnaby too it seemed, as he glanced back at his partner and to my hands. Jiles walked closer as well to get a better look at the hands I haven't even noticed. My own hands.

Maybe he was expecting me to answer immediately, like I knew about the condition of my hands, which would explain the raised eyebrow sent in my direction once I actually took a look to see what on earth he was talking about. They were bandaged tightly. All the way around the base of my hand and individually wrapping each finger, save for my thumbs which looked absolutely unscathed. The only exposed part other than those thumbs were the very tips of my fingers, where remnants of a black… soot like material seemed to be smudged in.

I tried to make sense of it all, because of all the places I initially felt pain, my head for example, my hands were not one of them. They weren't even throbbing in some facade just to make me think they actually hurt. They just didn't.

I must have been staring at them for too long, because my attention was quickly uprooted once more by Agent Jiles. "That ringing any bells?" Came the gruffer and slightly concerned voice of Jiles. I think by the time I looked up, both agents had finished exchanging glances, because their eyes scanned to me too quickly as I lifted my head.

My mouth dropped open slightly as I tried to conjure up an answer. Any answer. "I… I don't…"

As if on queue, another sharp an unforgiving image flashed in my head. Even if it was just a matter of a couple seconds, it was all too real. All too present even as I layed uselessly in an unfamiliar hospital bed, being questioned by unfamiliar people, and hearing the sound of my own unfamiliar voice.

It was a burst of fire again, accompanied by some awful shrieking noise. It sounded inhuman. Ungodly. Not of this World. Anything but human. At the sudden unease and cutting pain in my head that came with these flashes, I brought a hand up to clutch my head. It was a useless but instinctual action.

"Everything okay?"

Shit. Shit. I had almost forgotten about the agents in that moment. It was something so personal that only I could see… and that's what started to fill me with utter dread as I realized how this all pieced together.

The fire, the screams, these FBI agents, my hands, my head, my inability to remember anything, and the complete sinking feeling that was dropping down my chest, through my stomach, and repeating as if it were in a cycle.

I did something bad.

Really bad.

There was no way of knowing what. But, something. Something awful. Something unspeakable. If there was no memory in my mind, there was in my constricted chest. The feeling of guilt and shock together was enough alone to convince me.

My throat tightened, and for a moment it felt like I was about to start crying, tears threatening to prick at the outer corners of my eyes and overflow. But, they didn't come. I didn't let them. Because, call it another gut feeling, something was telling me not to. Not in front of these guys at least. Not until I was alone. Not until I was… out of this hospital.

I was guilty of something, and that's why these FBI agents were here. And, if I cried, if I let my true and newfound emotions spill out, they would know for sure.

I decided I had to leave as soon as possible. Before they grew suspicious. Jesus, if they weren't already suspicious.

Against my better judgement, this is the plan I knew I had to go with. In response to the worried question, I shook my head and shakily took my hand away from my head, looking at the agents once more with an as together look as I could muster. "I'm… I'm fine. I just need.. I need to.." In a quick process of thought, I vaguely gestured to a different door other than the one leading out of this room. The bathroom door.

Realizing what I'd meant, Barnaby stood up from the chair he sat rigidly in and cleared his throat almost awkwardly. "Uh, sure. Take your time." The tone in his voice sounded trusting enough. So now was the time if any. There was no such okay from Jiles, but I didn't bother to look at him just to see if his expression seemed suspicious or not.

I gave him the smallest of smiles before I lifted up the thin hospital sheets and hastily swung my legs around. It's not that I could recall any point in time when I'd been in a hospital before, but God, did I hate these gowns. It was too exposed.

For that reason, and the real reason I was moving towards the bathroom in the first place, I tried to hurry up the process. Yes, it was difficult because my legs didn't at first feel up to the walking task. It made me wonder how long it had been since I was able to move them. To walk. This time I didn't bother to try and remember anything. At this point it was in vain.

Between getting a feel for my legs and having to role the IV thinger along with me, it took me a few seconds longer than I would've liked to reach the bathroom door, and ultimately pull the door open, hobble in, and shut it with a quiet force.

Following the messy plan in my head, I automatically reached down and locked it. I knew those agents wouldn't walk in on my escape or anything… but sooner or later they would realize I was taking too long.

Locking the door was just insurance.

Next was taking this crappy IV out. One thing I knew for sure about myself, was I didn't like needles. Not in the slightest. While all I wanted to do was tear it out and 'rip off the bandaid' so to speak, I was also hesitant to do so.

Voiced started picking up on the other side- the agents' voices. They were probably just talking about me, so the clock was already ticking on my end. So, after a few moments of building myself up to do so, the needle was out. Beads of blood formed quickly on my inner arm, but it's not like I had time to bandage it or anything.

The next thing that grabbed my attention was the most important to this poorly thought out escape. The window. Fuck. It was higher up, and slim, but it was something I just had to… I had to make it. I would fit.

With shortness of breath, I stood on the tips of my toes and slid the pristine window open, a breath of fresh air hitting me in the face. It was something I didn't know I needed, having adapted so quickly to snuffy, medicine like smell of the hospital. Chemicals didn't exactly compare to the smell of rain pooling in the grass and on cement.

Once the window was open and the next plan of action was fresh in mind, I looked over my shoulder for good measure, first glancing at the door where mumbled voices still discussed whatever, and then to the… mirror.

If I thought knowing nothing from before was bad… it didn't compare to not even recognizing my own face. My own face. It felt like it wasn't supposed to be my face, like it didn't belong to me. But… it was, and it did. I paused, mouth falling open as I examined it more closely, my plan of action being put on pause.

There I was, matte black hair falling down in rat's nest just a little past my shoulders, eyes dazed with hooded eyelids to an extent. Dirt smudged on one cheek. A cut on the other. I was a mess… but it was me. My face. Me.

My newfound exposure to myself didn't last long, as a breeze swiftly drifted through the window I had opened and beckoned me back to the reality of my situation. When there was no time to bandage my now bleeding arm, as a result of yanking the IV out too harshly, there certainly wasn't time to stare at myself in the mirror.

With a deep breath, and one more scared glance towards the door, I cemented my mysteriously bandaged hands to the windowsill and used any ounce of strength left in me to haul myself up and at least halfway through the window. It occured to me that it was a very good thing that my room happened to be on the first floor, which still held a somewhat big drop. Otherwise, this would have all been in vain.

It was such a good plan for what little time I had to clump it together. Maybe that's what I was thinking when the door just beside my awkwardly positioned body was too quickly kicked open.

"Hey!" A rough voice, Agent Jile's, I barely registered at first, barked in alarm. Heavy footsteps fell behind that voice.

Maybe that's why, in light of my escape being too easily foiled, I panicked and jumped out the window, abandoning my careful approach.

Who knew wet grass could feel so hard.

(Thanks for reading! Just testing out the waters with this, so leave me a review to let me know what you think! The next chapter will certainly be longer, it's something I've been working on!)


End file.
